Her Sin is her Lifelessness
by MadebyPierrot
Summary: She was a nowhere girl, floating, flitting between the waking world and dreaming. There was no way to go but out.-AU.Dark fic, mutilation and suicide. Coarse language and just plain messed up and Trippy sh** too! Enjoy reading. :X
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry about deleting this I swear it wasn't intentional cause my mouse was acting up and lagging stupidly.** **hehe.**

**ladyxdeath get me a new mouse for d-day! haha! XD**

**A/N:  
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**Anywho...as I've mentioned before on the first A/N I did for this this is pretty dark and messed up and now I decided that imma focus on Rukia instead of turning this into a diff. character thing. It hit me when I found I accidentally deleted it...hmm...maybe the universe didn't like my first idea. Anyway that's it. This is a story of a real messed up girl living like all lonely girls**...**it's not happy cause their lives are not happy as is hers**. **I just want to put this up cause I want to start writing more dark stuff. :)**

**Disclaimer: Bleach=awesome=Kubo-sensei**. **:X**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

-**Strange Little Girl**-

_Blood_.

There was a tiny pool of it on the mosaic black and gray counter top. Her distorted reflection on the remaining fragments of the broken mirror looked dead. Her skin was sallow, the dark rings on her eyes were bruise-like. The tiny veins on her face were visible, forming tiny spirals on her left cheek. She's always been pale but under the fluorescent light she was almost transparent. This fragile body of a fragile young woman she had inhabited it but she was never there. She was always somewhere else, someplace that no one can get to. A place where she can't get out of.

She looks closer at herself through blood-shot amethyst eyes, her bloodless lips pressed tightly against each other so she won't bite on them. She forced her red-rimmed eyes to keep staring steadily, her reflection unflinching.

She barely felt the sharp end of the broken glass that she cut herself with. The wound was so deep it kept on bleeding and bleeding, letting the dark crimson liquid slowly travel from her mutilated skin and to the counter top to mingle with the little pool already turning black.

Her eyelids fluttered as her lips parted as she stood there idly, her eyes bright and glowing with an almost manic glint as she watched more of her blood trickling down her arm, feeling the elation, that fucking peaceful calm.

It's okay now, she's okay now.

Small bits of glass were stuck on her palm. She could feel them and it didn't hurt. Not even close.

It was strange that she kept seeing her six year old self . She was one of the angels in the school's nativity play. The program has ended and she was standing by the manger, posing for the camera. She wasn't smiling, her wings were lopsided and her halo was slipping off her head. Her tiny hands were clutching at the hem of her frilly white dress. She wasn't wearing stockings, not even those lacy ankle socks with satin ribbons that dangled on the sides. Her eyes looked weary and her lips were turned down on the corners. She looked miserable and pathetic. She looked like she didn't want her picture taken.

She blinked rapidly, sucking in a deliciously shaky breath and letting go to just feeling. She craved it, she couldn't stop. She was supposed to have been okay but she wasn't. They lied and lied and lied to her again and again. They told her, smiling that fake smile she wanted to smack off their faces. They told her she was fine, it was a phase. Just a phase. But she had seen the fear in their eyes, the twitching of their lips as their forced smile took its toll on their facial muscles.

She saw and she believed in what she saw was real and not another figment of her deranged musings.

She rinsed her hands with tap water and watched with riveted fascination and slight detachment as her blood dissolved into serpentine tendrils of red down, down the drain. Slowly, she plucked the shards from her palm and dropped them onto the sink. She removed them all and dropped them into the sink. She removed them all and her hand bled anew. The water made it sting just a tiny bit.

She glanced at the mess all over the bathroom floor, the counter top with splashes of blood. Not to mention the huge mirror. The sight almost made her regret ramming her fist against it repeatedly until it all but vanished from its ornate frame that held it in place.

She dried her hand on the immaculate white monogrammed towel from the rack and used it to wipe the blood off the counter top. She wouldn't bother to even pretend to clean up after herself, she'd only mess it up even more.

Her hands were shaking again as she strode over to the day bed and plopped her tiny body over its fluffy confines and folded her slender limbs, reaching for the pack of Marlboro lights and lighting one up before sliding the glass window open.

She took a deep drag as she peered at the faint light starting to creep up from the distance. The breeze was chilly as it brushed past her, lightly ruffling her short black tresses, softly caressing her cheeks and tickling her nose.

The house was dead quiet. There was not a sound even from outside. It was too quiet that her ears were ringing. There was only this deafening silence enveloping her, pressing down on her. She had to light another cigarette just to keep herself from bouncing off the walls, repeating everything for the millionth time. Getting more and more crazy everyday. It was all insanely sane, this mundane life she supposed she was living.

A swirl of smoke issued from the corner of her lips as she let out an agitated sigh. Her hand felt funny and blood was still trickling down her arm. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she pulled open the first aid kit she stashed under the day bed in one of the drawers and grabbed a roll of gauze to dress the wound temporarily. Just so she won't bleed all over her cushy nook.

She folded herself again on the day bed as she single-handedly wrapped the gauze around her hand and her wrist, barely wincing at the tightness of her binding that made the blood blossom onto the fabric quickly.

Once again, her thoughts were straying to a childhood she's all but erased from memory. She's been doing it for some time now and she couldn't understand why her mind was forcing her to relieve and remember that semblance of belonging she could say out loud she once lived. Before things got blocked from her memory, before she had trouble remembering names and faces.

They told her she was clinical but it wasn't denial that they wanted from her, they wanted her to accept what she was doing. They said it would help her get better. To stop the urge, to stop the shaking and the desire to grip that cold metal and feel it. They didn't want her to feel the rush anymore.

But they were all fucking with her. They damn well meant what they said that she was not normal. Her mind had gone awry long before she was even conscious she had one. Their medication wouldn't do a thing for her.

She was happy. They said they wanted her to be happy and she was, truly very happy. Everything was slipping away quietly, like most of her existence. No one would ever hear her sighing her very last breath as she let the small bottle slip from her limp hands, the cigarette still burning precariously placed over the sill.

But they would all see her smile

And a smile at least would mean she was happy. It was what everyone wanted.

It was all that she wanted.

All she wanted...

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><p><strong>Thanks for taking time to read. Review if you like...to continue reading more! haha. :X<strong>

**Introducing kimchi-tsundere-sama. :X  
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-kimchi-san-


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiya! :)**

**Yay! Update! wee~! :X**

**iloveSIDVICIOUS- oh man. I seriously do not know how to respond to that touching review you gave! :D THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THAT! *grins* And yes that is correct! I guess I have to put up a disclaimer I just ripped off Bob Dylan's lyrics! haha! Thank you again you're awesome and you have jarred me from my hermetic meditation or should I say isolation? Now I'm back and in the process of writing the new chaps for my other stories do stay tuned for that my dear, lovely one. :)**

**Lilith- have I mentioned I totally love your username! haha! I'm a big fan of lores even religious ones and that is one cool name you got there! :D Thank you so much my dearie. Thank you for liking my stories since you've reviewed and read most of them! :)  
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**A/N: This is a real trippy fic. If you did't think so in the first chap then maybe you'll change your mind. And no ladyxdeath I am not on something when I was writing this even if you haven't gotten around to reviewing this yet! XD I was just tripping on random songs on my itunes. korean, japanese, bach, koto music, hiphop, metal, alt, rock, U2 :) and a lot more I cannot remember them all! haha! Anyways enjoy the trip as you read this cause I really enjoyed writing this one!**

**Warning: If by any chance you are offended by strong coarse language...then do not read this fic!**

**Disclaimer: Kubo+Bleach=Awesomeness! XD**

**I have no idea if Stan Rice can be put here so carelessly but he's an awesome poet and I love his works! hehe!**

**And of course title courtesy of the iconic Bob Dylan. If you know which song I'm talking about then thumbs up to ya! :X  
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><p>Hide me<p>

from me.

Fill these

holes with eyes

for mine are not

mine. Hide

me head & need

for I am no good

so dead in life

so much time.

**-Stan Rice-  
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><p><strong>Chapter Two <strong>

**-Who was she?; She who?-**

She always thought that age had everything to do when someone was allowed to swear. That it had to be around legal age or adult age when a person could utter with complete vehemence a curse that once out of the mouth can never be taken back—ever.

She was thirteen when she first learned to swear and curse with such hatred, with a feeling of such pure and absolute vindictive pleasure as the foul word rolled out of her tongue so easily as if she were merely saying 'Thank You'.

In truth she actually spat out rather loudly and smugly, "Fuck Off!"

Oh it was a sweet, triumphant moment when she had taken that initiative to fuck the norms. To say goodbye to her firm belief that reality was unfolding in a straight line. That this story of hers has an actual plot. That living, breathing has its purpose.

She's been smoking on and off for a few months, still refused to hang out with the narcs in campus and deftly avoided the Goth crowd, the pierced and tattooed. No discrimination, no fear of the menace they chose to put up as a shield against the realities and the mundane crazy that is life. It was all a survival stint as she had chosen to be the invisible one, the no one girl. The strange ephemereal drifter who didn't belong anywhere. Who didn't belong with anybody.

She was the strange among the strange. A black cat and a tea cup short of being Emily.

Her iPod was her bestfriend. All day long she had her headphones on with the volume turned up high as she let the powerful drumbeats pound against her skull, let the violent riff of the guitar and the steady thrum of the bass send off happy hormones dancing in her system. Making her function with the accuracy and efficiency of an automaton on acid.

Then she'd curl up in bed with a book by some author no one in her class probably heard of much less understand what it was all about. She put stock in her own twisted way of choosing the films she would go to see every weekend where everyone sits so far apart from each other, all eyes focused on the widescreen, completely absorbed on the outdated black and white and quite often silent films that would go on for almost four hours.

Every like, every dislike was so out of the ordinary. Her very existence was so far removed from the ordinance that everyone else seem to comply with okay while she had gone over the fence in search for something far more interesting than cheering at the homecoming game or getting stoned and totally smashed at a frat party.

She thought like this once. She thought she could fight off her own darkness. She thought she could outrun her own demons.

But they always get to her when she was most vulnerable. Times of doubt, times of mistakes, of failure. The lowest of low and they hit her just right. With the right amount of pressure at the right spot. It was all it took for her to pick up that razor and drag it across her skin. Feel the calm as she let the pain take over and steer. She was enjoying the view at the backseat, letting go for only a moment and not a moment too long. Then she was back at it again. Drifting, the loop of lucid dreaming that was fast becoming a nightmare.

Everything was hazy sometimes, nothing seemed solid as if a wall of mist was separating her from the endless mindless chatter of teenage carelessness, of love(?) or was it heartbreak(~!). She was looking at them through a film, a restricting fog that would always let her know she was not part of this, she never was.

She never will be.

Anger. She had not relied on it before. It was precocious, nasty and all-consuming. A fire that would burn so fierce there's no stopping it once it has blazed into an inferno. There was only rage that is left. All of her energy directed towards letting it loose, ripping it apart from her body that felt as if it was about to split open and splatter. Nothing left and everything to loose. Where was the choice? But she knew she had made one, she just couldn't make it out.

Hair cut short, clothes dark and darker. Doc Martens—not the shiny ones. Kohl rimmed eyes every now and then. Loose boho clothing, tank tops and bangles. Braided leather headbands but no ghastly flowers. Plaid, flannel. Peace sign pendant.

But it didn't work.

All she had left was the noise that never left her alone. The voice in her head speaking to her, murmuring to her but never soothing, always mocking.

She would always end up with the golden ankh necklace. It was where she was headed to anyway. She was waiting and she was waiting for the right time, the right flipped state of mind. The right amount of tucked right side in sanity.

Large beautiful amethyst eyes looking out at the world with a hollowness, a haunted quality that no one understood was eating her from within. They see this pretty girl with a sad smile, pale skin, skinny and small. Smart, got something good going for her in the academics, studious, bookish even.

But in truth they don't really see her. All they see is this doll, this little miss perfect with a bright future all wrapped up in a red bow. Signed, sealed, delivered.

Unfortunately was unable to get to its destination.

It wasn't la-la Land, Wonderland, Underland or whatever more creative name one can bestow upon it for some sense of propriety or misplaced identity. It wasn't a happy place and even Alice deemed it 'curious and curiouser!'. No white rabbit in a tailcoat to lead you into a life-altering adventure just a bloody big headed Queen with a penchant for red hearts to send you off on a hearse minus your head.

A shaky reality, trembling underfoot. Flowers, spring blooms to send you off and the sharp scent of incense, the wax smell of white tapered candles. A picture on a frame. A face, a smile forever frozen in place. A memory to remember.

She passed on. No more pain, no more suffering.

But maybe you'll know what really happened. Maybe you'll know why she has to be happy in the last moments.

It was all she wanted. It was all they wanted from her.

But it wasn't for her.

She was more than a drifting fleshly apparition. She too might have had an identity.

Maybe they'll know.

Maybe not.

But she was happy and it mattered still in the end.

The strangeness was forgotten and only her sweetness was left to remember her by.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

**Reviews are nice and helpful do keep in mind that simple fact. :)**

-kimchi-tsundere-sama-


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